


a lad with braiding hands

by littleboxes



Series: tolkien time [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Hobbit Courting, Hobbit Culture & Customs, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, bombur is fucking hot by both dwarf and hobbit standards and bilbo is just trying to cope, flirting but not really but like. yeah, polyamorous dwarves is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29309673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxes/pseuds/littleboxes
Summary: Bilbo clears up a misconception.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Bombur, Bilbo Baggins/Bombur
Series: tolkien time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152785
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	a lad with braiding hands

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this with book canon in mind, though there isn't much difference from movie canon

"Ah, Master Baggins?"

Bilbo looked up from his stew with surprise. Rarely did the dwarves speak with him after they'd made camp. When they did, it was usually for Thorin to bark orders at him. Ori sometimes asked him questions as they rode, and Fili and Kili would occasionally joke with him on the road, but never at this time.

This was none of them. Bombur hovered awkwardly before him, looking... nervous?

"Er, yes?" Bilbo said, eloquence fleeing him as it had the unfortunate tendency to do around this company.

Bombur glanced to the ground beside Bilbo and Bilbo coughed, and flushed. Where _are_ his manners? A week or two on the road is hardly an excuse!

"Oh! I'm sorry, please, sit down. What can I help you with, Bombur?"

Bombur did, and... fiddled with some grass. As the silence stretched, Bilbo felt himself regain some measure of steadiness.

"Come now, what matter of importance could have you so nervous _here_ of all places?" he said, gesturing at the wilderness they'd made camp in, trying for a smile.

Bombur chuckled. "Aye, yes. Well, it's not a matter of importance, really," he said, rubbing the back of his neck before turning to face Bilbo, "But I thought I might ask you a question, if I could? About hobbits, I mean?"

Bilbo felt a relieved sigh leave him. If that was all-! What a silly thing to be all fussed over.

"Of course! Ori thinks of new questions for me every day, and there's a fair chance I've already answered it. Go ahead," he said.

Bombur quieted again, before asking, softer than Bilbo had ever heard him—or any of the dwarves for that matter—speak.

"As me and Bofur and Bifur were traveling through the shire, y'see, well... we gathered quite a few lookers but none so much, it seemed, as me. I suppose I was just wondering, have I done something to scare, or worry you? Hobbits, I mean."

Bilbo blinked, and then blushed. He went red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck.

"Ah—" he squeaked, and then found himself lost for words.

See, he'd been able to ignore Bombur on the road this far. Though it was horribly rude of him, he doubted that any hobbit in his place would do differently. Well; perhaps not his Took cousins, but they were often the exception to everything he did.

But yes: he'd been studiously avoiding Bombur (made easy by the fact that no one was exactly seeking him out) because it was very hard to focus on things like nasty, dirty adventures that you had joined despite your better judgement when the handsomest man you'd met in all fifty-one of your years was just... over there! _Cooking!_

Bilbo had gone quiet ever since his terrible squeak, and he was still red as his prized tomatoes, and Bombur was looking altogether alarmed and regretful, and as he began to speak—apologize—! Bilbo knew he couldn't let this misunderstanding stand.

Much as it embarrassed him to do it.

"You, ah, you haven't done anything _wrong_ , Bombur," Bilbo said, and he wasn't very convincing at all, squeezing the words through clenched teeth, and Bombur looked at him, disbelieving.

Bilbo sighed, this time louder and more gusty, and stared resolutely to the left of Bombur's face.

"I can assure you, my good sir, that those were not looks of terror," he started, "rather, you see, hobbits—well. Well. For courting purposes, we value several things: a good belly, for one, and lasses are always impressed by a lad with braiding hands, and cooking is a most highly prized skill, and I understand your ladle hangs on your pack? And, ah..."

Bilbo cleared his throat. "Red hair is... unique."

He was in no doubt that the heat of Smaug's fire had nothing on the flush of his face, but he risked a look at Bombur.

There was a hint of redness across his cheeks (though it was nothing in comparison to Bilbo), but he looked thoughtful as well. A tad pleased, too.

"I see," he said, gazing into the woods for a few seconds, before turning and smiling at Bilbo, "My thanks for the explanation, Master Baggins," he said, and then winked, quick as you please, before getting up and moving towards his cookpot.

Bilbo was left in his spot under the tree, gaping at Bombur's retreating back.

**Author's Note:**

> braiding hands is absolutely an innuendo for both hobbits and dwarves. bilbo's took side saw this man and jumped tf out


End file.
